


with every loss (the soul grows older)

by rawandmessyandbeautiful



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 09:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19867162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rawandmessyandbeautiful/pseuds/rawandmessyandbeautiful
Summary: "...a ragged “NO!” that reverberated through the warehouse, stinging anyone who heard like slices from shattered glass..."read through a few times but unbeta'd beyond that.





	with every loss (the soul grows older)

Alex dropped down onto his knees and pressed both hands against the bullet holes in his brother’s chest. Flint groaned weakly and blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. “Flint! Hey, you’re okay, you’re okay.”

“Do-don’t lie,” was the response he got, then a cough and more blood spray. 

Alex’s face twisted and gritted his teeth. “Come on, brother. Stay with me.”

“I…” Flint winced and placed his hand, covered in dirt and blood, over Alex’s on his chest. It looked like he took all the strength he had to do it. “I wasn’t going-” a wrecked cough interrupted his words. 

“Don’t try and talk, okay? Max!” he looked frantically around the warehouse, he saw Michael keeping his father pinned against the wall; he could have easily snapped his neck but knew he wouldn’t without Alex’s go ahead. 

And Alex would give it. He would. He’d pull the trigger himself, like his father did, without hesitation, firing into his son’s chest for refusing an order. 

He needed to take care of his brother, first. “Where’s Max?”

“Liz came and got him, Valenti was hurt protecting the prisoners.”

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. “Okay, okay,” he looked down at his brother and saw Flint was trying to talk but nothing was coming out. “Hey, easy. Just relax. Soon as Max’s done, we’ll fix you. You’re gonna be alright.”

“Al-Al,” Flint struggled. He was pale, almost blue. _He wasn’t getting enough oxygen_ , Alex’s training helpfully supplied to him. “Please.”

Tears flooded Alex’s eyes, he pressed harder on the wound but Flint didn’t respond. He didn’t feel it. _He’s dying. He’s dying_. “Okay, okay. Tell me. What?” 

Alex bent closer to hear the ragged, whispered words coming from his brother’s bloody, purpled lips. “I wasn’t go-go-ing to use it.”

“Use what?”

“I would ne-ver hurt you.”

Alex suddenly remembered Caulfield, his brother grabbing him with one hand, the other going to his gun. He squeezed his eyes shut before he took a hand away from Flint’s chest, placing it gently on the side of his brother’s face. He wiped away blood from his lips with his thumb. “I know,” he said, his voice wrecked. “I know.”

“I’m sor-sor…”

Flint exhaled, his eyes going sightless. 

He was gone. 

His brother was dead. 

Alex let out an anguished growl through gritted teeth, a ragged “NO!” that reverberated through the warehouse, stinging anyone who heard like slices from shattered glass. His breathing was uneven and ragged and he couldn’t stop the aching sounds that released as he leaned down and kissed his brother’s forehead. 

Memories flashed. Moments of happiness, all too brief in a tyrant’s house. Teasing and playfighting, piggyback rides and one memorable camping trip. Smiles and noogies and hugs. 

Alex laid his head against his brother’s still chest and cried for all the memories. 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr under the same name!


End file.
